It Started at Christmas
by CeliaEquus
Summary: There's a big party at the ministry. Remember: alcohol cures all. By the way, I don't believe that. It's just a drunk Harry talking.


"It Started at Christmas"

There was a big party that had taken over the Ministry of Magic. It was the annual Christmas party for the workers at the Ministry, and any guests that they brought. The celebration took over more and more of the building every year, it seemed, and this was only the third year.

It took place on Christmas Eve, as that was the day that Voldemort had been defeated. It had, in fact, taken place at the Ministry itself, about six months after the battle in which Sirius Black had died. Albus Dumbledore, as it turned out, had been dying from the injury to his hand, and when Severus Snape accidentally revealed this to the wrong person, Voldemort was informed.

He waged war on the Ministry, taking many workers hostage. The members of Dumbledore's Army, as well as other students who were capable of fighting, all went straight to the Ministry, giving Harry Potter and his friends a nasty sense of déjà vu. But somehow, they had triumphed. Voldemort was killed by Harry—funnily enough, completely by accident, involving a misplace Fiendfyre which engulfed the Dark Lord—and now they held the Christmas party in honour of the victory as well as the season.

Three years after the defeat, in which the Light were fortunate enough not to have lost anyone—though it was a close call for some—Hermione was working at the Ministry, along with Harry and Ron. They were all Aurors-in-training.

"Conga!" Hermione called, getting steadily drunker. Harry, who knew what she meant, grabbed her by the waist, and they started to sing the conga song, dancing along. The other Muggleborn witches and wizards joined them, and soon there was a long line as everyone caught on.

Eventually, they snaked their way through the building to the Department of Mysteries, which some slightly tipsy Unspeakables opened up for them. Continuing through, they reached the room with the veil.

"Alcohol cures all!" Harry said, feeling sorrow over his dead godfather. He was clutching onto a bottle of Firewhiskey loosely as he kept a hold on Hermione's waist, who led them around the amphitheatre.

"This party is enough to wake anyone up from the dead," Severus Snape remarked, also dancing in line. "Now, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that someone spiked the butterbeer."

"You can't spike butterbeer, Professor!" Hermione sang. The music suddenly stopped, and they all dropped their hands, coming to a stand still. They started to disperse back to the party, Hermione and Harry still standing where they had stopped. They both looked down at the veil, hearing voices coming from it.

"C'mon," Hermione said, tugging Harry's hand as she drunkenly made her way down there.

"Are you hearing voices again, `Mione?" he asked. Severus, out of curiosity, followed them to the mysterious veil, his eyes starting to glaze over a bit.

"It's saying 'Gimme a drink'," he said, just about ready to fall over where he stood.

"Hi, Professor," Hermione said, sidling up to him drunkenly. "How _are_ you?"

"Give `im a drink, Potter!" Severus called, pointing to the veil. Shrugging, Harry tossed the bottle of Firewhiskey into the veil. Moments later, an arm emerged, holding the bottle. Sirius Black followed soon after, in time to see Hermione and Severus in each other's arms, snogging passionately.

"That's an image I never needed to see," he said, blinking. "But damn, Hermione looks hot."

"Sirrus!" Harry said, his voice slightly slurred. In fact, his steps were a bit uneven as he tottered over to his godfather. He gave him a big hug, and Hermione and Severus emerged long enough to say 'hello', before returning to what they were quite content to do.

"What's going on, Harry?" Sirius asked, concerned that he was surrounded by drunk people, and that he was the only one holding any alcohol. How did they go from battle to this?

"It's Chrissmas," Harry said, still inarticulate.

"And you're all off your faces," Sirius replied, raising an eyebrow. "Well done."

"Voldiemor's gone, Sirrus. Lighten up." He hiccuped.

"Well, that's good to know," Sirius said, and he sighed with relief. "Okay. Now, lead me to the most attractive, single lady at the party."

"That would be Hermione," Harry said, pointing at her. But he giggled when he saw her with Severus. "Maybe not to single after all."

"No," Sirius said.

"But merry Chrissmas all the same, Sirrus!" Harry said, raising his hand, forgetting that he no longer held the bottle of Firewhiskey.

"Merry Christmas, Harry," Sirius said, and Harry began to conga back out of the room.

**

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Thought I'd write a seasonal story for a change. Who liked it? Read & Review, fair ones. R&R. And a merry Chrissmas to you all! Apologies to those people for whom it's now Boxing Day. I didn't have time to put this up last night, and it made sense to do it Christmas Day_ here_. Oh well. Enjoy all the same.**


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